


Little Vines

by SE_Soignee (Soignee)



Series: Sirens Era [3]
Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-19
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2019-10-31 12:41:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17849663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soignee/pseuds/SE_Soignee
Summary: "She was never far from my thoughts."A collection of vignettes and short stories featuring Kolyat Krios, set in the Sirens and Selkies era.





	1. Cover Art and Introduction

* * *

 

 **vignette**  
**noun [ C ] UK /vɪˈnjet/ US /vɪˈnjet/**  
  
a short piece of writing, music, acting, etc. that clearly expresses the typical characteristics of something or someone:

_Kolyat always thought of Oriana in the oddest of moments._

* * *

 

 

_Author's Note:_

While each chapter can be read as a stand alone story, this collection features characters, plots and scenes that are mentioned in [_Sirens & Selkies_](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14328147/chapters/33063495). These series of vignettes can be read alongside without any spoilering the main plot, however- the focus is very much between Kolyat and Oriana before the Deconnick case even starts, and the moments they share in the months leading up to it.


	2. Cards On The Table

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kolyat and Oriana have a day off from work, and a minor misunderstanding about the use of a kitchen table.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: Kolyat remembers a violent sexual assault case in passing.

I woke up alone, a hand on the cooling sheets left by her warmth. Quite how she managed to clamber over me in silence was a feat, but Oriana Lee had her ways.

I heard the shower start in the bathroom as I rolled over, the sound of water hitting the tiles. It had become a regular occurrence in my life; Ori stayed over to the point of routine, especially when we both had the day off from work.

It was nice, the presence of her. Even the cat had conceded to it, not that either were friends yet. Despite the offerings of tuna, Fish would refuse to be touched, but could tolerate a shared couch.

Ori hummed an aimless tune, probably using up two cycles of my water rationing already. I could join her, I suppose. Follow the comforting thought through, lift her against the wall and conserve water together—

_-the softness of her pulled flush against me, safe under the heavy covers. ‘Maybe I can stay,’ she said, her lips at my throat-_

Or I could wait for her to come back to the warmth of my bed, a much more sensible idea.  We had the entire day to ourselves, free of obligations. I could bend her over the kitchen table after lunch if she’d let me, maybe after my morning run-

_-why do you think you’re in charge?’ Ori pinched a fin with her fingers and-_

Possibilities. All of them good.

I shifted the sudden tightness of my briefs away before settling under the covers again, sighing at the thought of a planned nothing. Before I knew it I had drowsed, lulled by the comfort of my bed.

The thump of the cat jumping up pulled me out of the sleep I slid into, startled awake by 7kg of Fish. She took one look at me and cleaned herself, a delicate foot shoved in the air while she licked.

“Elegant,” I told her, reaching out to scratch a twitching ear.

Oriana paused in the doorway, clothed in the purple robe she only wore here. She called it her _loungewear_ , something light to cope with the supposed heat of my apartment. “You’re only jealous you can’t do it,” she said, patting her hair with a towel.

A thick white paste was slathered on her face, almost like a turian’s faceplate. No one was being bent over _anything_ while that was still on, I knew that much. “I’m quite sure I can pull my leg up to my shoulder,” I told her. “Can you?”

Ori smiled far too quickly for my liking, the corners of her drying mask cracking in the motion. “Prove it.”

“No.”

Sometimes I regretted my choice of words, especially with her around to twist them _._ “But can you lick your own tail at the same time?” she asked. “Curious minds want to know.”

_“Ori.”_

She had that look still, the one where I needed morning tea to keep up with whatever thought passed through her skull. “Hmm, you’re right. You’d never leave the apartment if you could.”

“I don’t plan to anyway,” I told her. “At least, not today. I got things to do.”

Namely _her_ , but I could bide my time. “I doubt that, it’s your day off. Unless you have something planned I don’t know about.”

“Maybe I do.”

Even with a muck-covered face I wanted her. I pulled Ori to me as she reached for her omni-tool by the bedside, my face nuzzling the softness of her stomach.

I had yet to wrench myself from the covers, not quite leaving the comfort of bed for the comfort of her. Ori’s hands found my fins in retaliation, nimble human fingers stroking a line down the sensitive ridge.

It was oddly soothing. “I was thinking we could go somewhere,” she said, nails gently scratching now. “Go out in the evening. What do you think?”

I looked up where she stood over me, face cracked in white. “Not with that still on, I assume.”

My finger was left in a chalky, fruit-scented film when I poked her chin. Ori rolled her eyes as I did, tugging a fin gently in retaliation. “It will wash off. I need a skincare routine now, some idiot keeps the dehumidifier on.”

She was always covering herself with something slopped out of tubs and packets when she was here, a side effect to my apartment. Our first evenings together she used to hide herself away to do it, but now she rubbed it on without sideways look to me. The _schlik-slap_ sound of it intruding itself even when we watched a vid, but I could never bring myself to question it.

All of it tasted disgusting if I kissed her immediately after. Instead I sighed and breathed her in, the scent of the wash she was fond of stuck to the silks of her robe. When did an alien with peculiar habits do it for me? When did _this_ become my normal, waiting for my soft, warm girl to hurry up and join me in bed?

_-she looked away and shuddered at the cold of the view, Zakera stretched out before us in broken buildings and jagged neons. It hit me then, just how much I wanted her. Oh I thought about humans sometimes, the girls I passed on the street. But not like this, never-_

The memory passed, and I smiled. “Well. That's the same idiot who likes their lungs to be clear, I imagine. Since it’s their apartment.”

“The cat. Definitely the cat. Can’t think who else it could be.” She lifted my arms away to dance out of my hold then, an eye on her fastened omni-tool, her mail alert a distraction.

I stood up to stretch until something clicked so loudly she noticed. “I’m going to indulge in a shower, unless you’ve used all the water,” I said.

“I’m just thinking of you health,” she replied. “It’s from the bottom of my heart. But you have some minutes left, if you want to scald yourself.”

“Yours is a selfless act.” I tweaked her chalky chin again as I left, Fish at my heels in the hopes of a second breakfast. Out of all the pets I could own in the universe, I ended up with the one that loved warm and dry the most. Fish was content to curl up by the vents of my drell-made heater to a worrying level, and I often wondered if I’d come home to a desiccated bag of cat if I didn’t check up on her.

Once Fish worked out I was only heading to the bathroom, she left me to stare out the window at the buzzing skycars in a sulk.

The Kepral’s Association only recommended it as a once per week activity, but no one listened- hot showers were a gift from the Gods. I mostly used the sonic shower setting both at work and home, but my days off with Ori started a habit. I doused my frill in the thing that could kill me and liked it, even if it was a genetic gamble.

_-one more cough, his sickness an unwanted guest in the room. ‘No matter,’ Father said, waving it away like an annoying insect-_

The door chimed once politely, even though I had left the lock open. “Can I come in? I need the basin.”

“It’s open.” As soon as the door slid open my rationed allowance of water stopped, the bathroom suddenly cramped with two of us fighting for the mirror.

She looked at me sideways once she had removed her face mask, and was about to say something before I pulled her into my arms. An aimed lick of her throat made her laugh, and I enjoyed the feel of her against my naked scales, even if she was clothed.

“You’re wet. Rude,” she said, humming as I found her ear to suck. “I’m not your personal towel.”

The taste of the awful face paste still lingered in the folds, and I pulled away to wipe my mouth. “You’re the one that barged into my shower.”

“The mask was crumbling into my tea, it was a traumatic experience.”

I brushed my teeth as she sat on the closed toilet to rub her face dry, amused by something. Probably me, it always was. “What?” I said, brush still in my mouth. “You look like you’re plotting.”

“Nothing bad. I was thinking we could meet up with Silene, I’ve told you about her.”

It was not quite the activity I had hoped for my day off, and reached over her head for a towel. “The turian fashion designer, you met in a bathroom. Not like _this_ , I hope.”

“No, we had more clothes on. But she’s lovely,” Ori said, smiling now.

I was confused how a queue for a grimy club toilet could spark a friendship, but I wasn’t going to ask now. “Is it for anything? A turian holiday, perhaps?”

“She just suggested dinner, that’s all. I know there’s not much open right now on the Wards, but we can always grab a drink, at least.”

I tried not to sigh. So much for a day of possibilities, but we still had the morning to try. “I’ve already bought food for the evening.”

“I’d just like for _us_ to meet her. It can be for a cup of tea somewhere.”

It was hard to argue my point stark bollock naked, and I wondered if that was her ploy. “I suppose. I just wanted to spend my time off with you.” I still heard the whine in my throat before I could stop it, and wiped my mouth again.

“Of course we’ll be together,” she said, standing up to face me. “I’d just like to go out for a change. See the rebuilding, maybe even go to that gallery that’s opening up, there’s an exhibition on. We stay inside a lot, Kol.”

For a good reason, the Wards were still a building site. But she stared at me through the steam of the window, and I sighed. “An art gallery?” I said.

There was a stabbing behind it two weeks ago. Two drunks arguing over a bottle of shard wine, metres away a billion credit art collection. “It’ll be good for us, it’s something new.” A kiss was placed on my cheek. “That a yes?” She said, moving to kiss the other.

We both knew she had won. Oriana leaned back to look at me, smiling now. “Fine. We’ll go. But we can have food here, at least. Save some money.”

“A deal,” and she made a show of shaking my hand. “Are you going for a run? I was thinking of a swim, but the pool is closed still. Maybe we’re getting lazy, I don’t feel like it anyway.”

“We can stay here. At least for a moment.” I still had plans to try out the reliability of the kitchen table with our enthusiastic testing- I could forgo my run for that, obviously.

“Can we?” she said, tugging the towel draped around my neck. “I think I have a vague idea of your workout plan.”

My body was not so subtle in its reaction to Oriana in my arms. She smiled again, this time her lips finding mine. “Well,” I managed to say between pecks of her mouth, “perhaps. Wouldn’t say no. If you want to, that is.”

Her wandering hands found me, a gentle touch. “I’m always so amazed at how easy it is to make you hard,” she said.

I looked at her like she was stupid. “Is that a yes?” My voice was lower than usual, a thrum stuck in my chest. “Because-”

I was silenced by her clever, clever touch. “Only if you’re good.”

Two could play this game. It took a hand to a breast and my lips to her throat for her to gasp, reaching behind for the basin to steady herself.

 _“Yes,”_  I heard then, a final denouement. I lifted Ori to the sink to her laughter, a gentle bite to her ear. “Can you just-” she started, trying to take off her robe. “It’s silk, I don’t want it to get wet.”

She was already damp from the water on my scales, but I helped her out it anyway. “Nothing underneath.” I chuffed, pleased, and folded her soft robe over over the rack. “Planning something?”

“Not really, clothes seem to disappear in your apartment. I can’t think why.”

I helped myself to handfuls of her very soft, very pleasing ass, and hoisted her again. “I can think of several reasons.”

“Because you’re a deviant. Maybe I like the freedom.”

_-wicked, unbeliever! Cast out deviant thoughts,’ they said, the advertisement startling me awake at three am. ‘Contact this one now to absolve your sins. With the Blessed Enkindlers you can wash yourself clean, in supplication of their-_

“Do you now.” That I was between the thighs of her in my bathroom was not lost on me. Dirty sin or cleaned absolution, I didn’t care.

She kissed me again, but as I hoisted her up I slipped in the damp of the tiles. “Gods fucking _damn it_ -”

“There are other rooms.” Oriana gripped the basin again, this time to steady us both. “Other places we can be. Dryer, warmer places.”

Like the kitchen table. Now _there’s_ an idea. “Fine.”

I stopped her before she could drag me back to the bedroom, right where I wanted us to be. The table in question an ordinary fold down, something found bolted to Citadel apartments for centuries.

“Kol?” She asked, confused by the wait. “Oh. Here?”

“It’s new.”

“It is.” Oriana perched herself on the table, legs crossed. “You’ve thought about this, haven’t you?”

I had a hand on her knee, drawing a loop of the joint. “Maybe.”

“So when you made your morning tea this week and stared at it did you think: _‘the table. We could do it right here. This is an acceptable idea.’_ ”

Her attempt at my voice was atrocious. “We don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

After what felt like an age, she finally replied. “Sit down in front me,” she said.

I pulled the stool from under the table, cold plastic sticking in places it shouldn’t. Her legs stretched out to the side of my shoulders, a resting point. It did not take a genius to work out where she wanted to be, especially with my face so close.

“Are you comfortable?” I asked.

“Just about.” I ran a hand down her smooth thighs I was between, tiny bumps raised on her skin. Goose pimples, she called them. Disgusting words, especially for something I caused.

“Tell me what you want.”

“Put your mouth to a better use and maybe I will.”

I kissed both her calves before I moved forward. I was greedy, I wanted her to come fast. I deployed every dirty trick I had memorised to get her off, just to hear her cry out, watching as she closed her eyes and hummed in pleasure.

I got my my reward. When she came her hands were on her breasts, reddened by her own marks. Ori pulled away to catch her breath, legs loose in my hold. “Well. That was _efficient_ ,” she said, leaning back on her elbows. “Was I breakfast?”

My mouth tasted of her still. _“Ori._ Gods.”

I stood over her now, the stool pushed to one side. Oriana looked up, unsure what to say, chest and cheeks still flushed from our previous effort. “How do you want me?”

It felt like I was hard since the moment I woke up. The question of _how_ I wanted her was irrelevant at this point, I’d take whatever I was given with an open palm. “What do you want to do?”

“That’s not an answer.” Oriana narrowed her eyes at me, smiling like she had worked out a secret. “You’ve been planning this, we have to get it right. Is it like this with my legs up _?”_ She lifted them so they were on my shoulders, and I found myself anchored to her thighs again.

 _“Ah-”_ I closed my eyes and imagined the feel of her. Her body lined with mine, just out of reach now-

 _Almost_. Oriana moved away to sit further down the table, distant from me now. “No, too tame for you,” she said, still smiling. “Am I on my knees or on my back? Feet on or off the floor?”

“Whatever you want.”

An edge had creeped into her words. She was sharp, even if she was only teasing. “Liar, you know exactly what you want to do to me. Am I tied up in your little teatime fantasy or not? Should we find some rope?”

The sharp was still there, the jagged coral reef beneath the drag of the undertow. “No.”

“Do I beg, I bet I do. Unless you’re the one that’s begging, is that your thing?”

 _Gods dammit_. I snapped my head to look at her now, confused at how brittle her voice was. “No. We can stop, it’s fine.”

“Go on, show me who’s boss. Put me in my place.”

I knew enough about humans and their history with misogyny to get the point. It was an ancient societal mess that clashed with the fraying matriarchy of mine, but the joke still failed to land.

She was quietly angry. In my confusion, I stepped back, putting distance between us both. “We don’t have to do anything.”

“Kolyat-“

What did she want from me, what did I do _wrong?_

I turned away to look at something else before the memories came. A parade of bound and broken people, of the omni-cuffs that I always had snapped to my uniform, of the autopsy reports of rope burns and contusions, the endless misery and violence and-

-I _begged him to stop and he wouldn’t,’ she said, gaunt human eyes hollow as she recalled the memory. ‘He tied me to the kitchen chair and-_

Su Yeoung’s eyes were brown, not like Ori’s icy blue. “Kolyat, wait,” Ori said, reaching for me now. “I’m sorry.”

Most of C-Sec’s victims ended up in the Ward’s morgue, but not Su. We arrested her attacker, filed enough evidence for the court put him away. He made her beg for her life; she said she would never forget it, and I never questioned her belief.

_-Please drell, I’ll do whatever you want-_

I breathed in heavily and sat on my bed, pushing the familiar memory to one side. No matter where I was, my attempt at murder still punched me in the stomach. It was a solid weight of shame that turned my stomach, even years after it happened.

I pretended I knew what power was when I was seventeen, a stupid kid with a stolen gun. Now I knew what a sad little nobody I was, flotsam to sink in the Lower Wards, passing through the pipelines to whatever Terminus hole I would’ve ended up in.

Gods thrice fuck it, I just wanted to see my girlfriend’s ass on the table. That was all, none of _this_.

The mood was gone. Ori sat beside me in silence, dressed again in her robe. She watched my face and I looked away, half-expecting her to mock me, more sarcasm to deflect. “Don’t ask me hurt you,” I said. “I can’t.”

I didn’t have to list out the reasons, she knew I was a homicide detective. Oriana exhaled the breath she was holding in, not quite a sigh. “I know you wouldn't.”

Both of us were unsure what to do with ourselves. A kiss was placed on my cheek before she hugged me, and I pulled her tight into my arms. “Maybe I need to be in charge more than I thought,” she said. “It didn’t feel like I was.”

It was my turn to feel awful. I did not deserve to be touched, pulling away before I could hurt her again. “Oh Gods. I’m sorry. I’d never-“

Oriana refused to let me run. “I could’ve handled it better, I was an anxious mess. You didn’t know.”

I should’ve seen it, I was fucking _trained_ to read people. That solid weight of disgust returned, the one that punched my stomach.

“It’s a nice table,” she said, deflecting the mood. “I can see why you picked it. Very firm, takes our weight. Do you have a fetish for any other furniture I should know about, or does your objectphilia only extend to tables?”

I sighed. “Sometimes a table is just a table. It was new, and I wanted a memory of you with it.”

“That’s all?”

“That’s all.” She took my hands in hers. There was plenty left to say, but a truce was made, and we both left with the cold reality of a temperature drop. “Arashu fuck me sideways, I’m freezing,” I said. My scales clamped so tight it felt like I was shrinking. “Bed? For the warmth, I mean.”

“Lazy.”

The pair of us lay wrapped in the covers of our peace offering to warm up, but the silence pushed me to speak. “We should probably talk more. About these kinds of things.”

It’s something you should explain to with your lover, I suppose. The secrets in closets, the thoughts tucked away. What you want, what you didn’t. “We talk all the time,” she said. “We have to, we’re different.”

I took a pill with my morning tea to dull the effects of my venom because of her. I hated it, and if I ate too much acidic food it made my piss smell like garbage water. But I did it for Ori, so she wouldn’t see dancing Fishcats or talking walls whenever we were together, so she would always be in the moment with me.

Ori had her creams and her lotions to deal with my scales in return, her own private toll to pay. I thought we were frank about the blunt reality of a drell and a human fucking, but somehow between the shower and the table both of us forgot we were people too.

“There are more things to consider than tab A, slot B,” I said.   

“Don’t discredit yourself, you’re better than a tab.”

“ _Ori_.”

She shifted so she could see me. “Do you want me to make you feel good?”

“Only if _you_ want to.” I repeated the message like a broken fucking VI with her, and not because of her fragile memory. “But I’d rather we talk first.”

Oriana licked her lips before speaking, unsure if she wanted to talk. “You’re the only man that’s made me come,” she said.

I puffed up so much it felt like my frill had inflated itself. “You’re meant to enjoy yourself. That’s a universal understanding, _orishen_.”

“Told you I can make you feel good.”

I wasn’t even human, and I was the only person who had ever got her off. With me. Sex with me. Sex that we do on a thrice weekly basis, more if we could. Good sex, the best she’s had. _With me._

“You kept that quiet,” I said. Apart from the times when she was so loud her cries rang in my ears, nails in my back as-

_-yes,’ she said, ‘ah, oh God, ah-_

“Your ego is big enough. Just my vibrator could do it before, I should introduce you both.”

“The purple one in your bedside drawer? We’ve met.” I was duly swatted for the reveal, though I barely felt the mark. “What? You asked me to find your datapad. It was a natural place to look.”

“Maybe I can introduce you properly next time.”

I put the thought to one side before my imagination ran away with it. “I’m glad I please you,” I said, pinching her chin.

“So am I.” Ori scrubbed at her face with her hands, embarrassed now. “I remember thinking with the others, was this it? Was I lied to, five minutes of this? Maybe I should stick to my own hand.”

“Gods damn.” There was nothing else to say that wouldn’t sound like a conceited jerk-off to my performance, so I kept quiet. I knew Oriana had been with three people before me, half my botched track record. All of hers were human, and apparently all awful- especially the one called Danner.

“I moved to the Citadel soon after,” she said, smiling at something. “And I thought, I’m going to make a go of it, a fresh start. Life is out there, you know? I’m twenty four years old, I should go out and meet people, try them out like clothes. Be the biggest slut possible. Sex is meant to be good- I can get myself off, that means someone else can too, just have to find them.”

I startled so much at the words I choked. Oriana rarely swore, but when she did it was like a well aimed frag grenade, shattering shrapnel everywhere. “ _Interesting._ ”

I knew there was no one else in the year I had known her, but she wanted to explain something, annoyed by my interruption. “You wanted me to talk,” she said, poking my shoulder. “I’m talking.”

“Carry on, by all means.”

Ori fiddled with the edge of the cover to keep her hands busy. “I made a deal with myself one night, I got this invite to a party the day before. Instead of sitting in my lonely apartment doing nothing, I’d do something. Or more accurately, some _one_. The first person I liked the look of, I’d tell them I wanted them. And if they didn’t please me, I’d leave. No wasted effort.”

She pushed me over until I was flat on my back, and I didn’t fight it. Instead I let her straddle my legs, my hands on her waist to steady her. “You know who I met that night?”

The temple bell rang clear. “Ah.”

“Yeah, _ah_. Well done, Officer Krios, you solved it. And I would’ve gotten away with it, if you didn’t meddle.”

_-do you want to kiss me?’ she said, tugging at the lapels of my jacket. ‘I want you to. I’m sorry, I’ve not heard a word you just said, I been looking at your mouth and thinking-_

What a strange night that was.

Shepard chose to invite everyone she could think of connected to the Normandy for a “get together on the Citadel.” Somehow I made the list by being my father’s son.

The event itself was quiet and anticlimactic, a lot of sitting and standing in social groups I had no part of. The spaces of the people missing were apparently large enough; it was a party as somber as a memorial, despite the interesting drinks.

But I met Ori there, a start of our _something_. We only exchanged one glance in the kitchen during that party, though a shared taxi back to Zakera was enough to knock me over.

One short conversation and a pair of long, long legs next to mine was all it took. I wanted to know all I could find out about Oriana Lee, I was interested.

_-I disagree,’ she said. The lights of a passing Special Response vehicle flew by, her pale skin framed in blue. ‘Everything can be universally understood, you just need to find the right words-_

When Ori asked me to show her the bright lights of Zakera, something in me couldn't refuse. For once I was curious where the moment would take us, caught in the ebb and flow of meeting her for the first time.

Recollections of that night were precious, a glimmering jewel found in the garbage of the Wards. It was _tu’amo_ , in the old language. A meeting so perfect you don’t want to meet again, just in case you tarnish the memories.

 “So I was your experiment,” I said. “The first person you saw.”

That I just so happened to be in the right place at the right time turned my jewel into a shard of glass. Was Oriana like the scale-chasers and venom-drinkers I brushed off, looking for a drell? Reduced to a _thing_ , not a person- only an experience to add to her collection of memories.

_-you’ll do,’ she said, adjusting the fit of my jacket. ‘Just about presentable.’ Her blue eyes were soft now, and I missed her touch when it was gone. When did anyone last touch me-_

Even drell remember things differently when a new perspective is added.

Oriana must’ve saw something on my face, and kissed my chin. “The _point_ I’m making, which apparently you’ve missed, is that there’s only been you. You idiot.”

The glass turned back into diamonds, untarnished once more. “I ruined your _Sex & The Citadel _ experience, I’m terribly sorry.”

“God, that show.” Oriana made a disgusted noise.

I would bet a month’s paycheck she used to watch it.  Every colony girl thought they were Cari’mae the moment they moved to the Wards, but the reality of Citadel living soon crushed the dream.

I looked away, focused now of the dip of her collarbone. “Am I enough?”

My chin was tilted, a gentle kiss placed on my lips. “More than enough. You still have me, don’t you?”

Ori moved to accommodate me as I sat up, cheek resting on my fins. “I am quite glad I took Shepard’s invitation,” I said, closing my eyes as she kissed the centre scales of my forehead.

The feeling of her lips lingered. Shield of Arashu, it was called. The mark She made when everyone was born, Her holy blessing shaped into form. “As if you could refuse,” she said. “it’s Shepard.”

“I was thinking about it.”

“You, snub social interaction? Unheard of.”

A strand of her hair fell into my face as she leaned into me again. “Kiss me,” I asked.

All I wanted was Ori. The weight of her body on top of mine, the smell of the endless fucking creams and potions on her alien skin, her shampoo. Her lips tasted of tea and awful human toothpaste and _her,_ hot tongue demanding inside my mouth.

Oriana’s hair was still in my face, and for once I didn’t care. It did not matter that she was already here pressed against me, that I had her in my arms. I wanted her, I wanted her, I wanted her.

But we still needed to breathe. Ori pulled away to gasp, smiling at me. “We’re something, you and me.”

I pushed the troublesome strands behind her strange little ears, caught in the spikes of the pearls she always wore. “Might be worth keeping,” I said.


	3. Navy Sea, Ocean Blue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Traumatised by a frumpy dress? It’s more likely than you think.

One of the first things I had to relearn with Ori in my life was mornings. We both had to find a new rhythm of starting our days, a slow creep of change that happened whether we liked it or not.

My routine was fairly simple and unchanged for the past two years: I’d wake up, then head to the bathroom; I’d share a simple breakfast with whatever leftovers I had with the cat, then read the overnight reports from the previous shift. Sometimes I’d go for a run if I needed to connect my thoughts, an activity dependant on whatever thrice-fucked mess waited for me at work.

The pull of a soft, warm girlfriend curled into my side played havoc with my personal best, obviously. I now ran after my shift if Oriana had stayed over, but on my days off I was beginning to understand that change in routine was a _good_ thing.

I knew I had to make room for her, to keep something open. It was my tax to pay, but Ori seemed to take up too much space if I let her. She intruded into my thoughts far too often, memories triggered in places they shouldn’t.

Today’s detritus were her discarded clothes and datapads shoved at the end of my bed, and the lipstick stains left on a glass. She _tried_ to keep herself contained here, at least. Her own apartment was an unholy mess the Depths welcomed, neither furnished nor tidy. It was an empty shell of a space, full of storage boxes and disorder; we were both happier when she stayed over at mine, even if she never admitted the fault.

The cat suffered through the arrangement, no matter how much Ori tried to befriend her. Fish glared at me like it was my fault the bathroom was locked, that the human was in _her_ space again. “Not much I can do about it,” I told her.  

The pitiful mewl prompted me to intervene, and I put down my tea with a sigh. I had set the motion sensors to activate the door when Fish was close, but the privacy mode had kept her out.

“Ori? There’s a queue.”

I heard a tinny reply through the metal. “Be right out, sorry.”

“Fish needs to use her shit box.”

There was a pause as the door swished itself open. “You’re a man of poetry,” Ori said. Her hair was pushed back, and she was clothed in a dour dress, her usual colours missing.

“What else is it? Not everything needs a pretty word.” Fish went straight to her box in a gallop, ears pinned back. I had shared a bathroom with my cat before; neither of us could look at each other in the eye when she needed to go, even if we were both forced to share a space. “Let’s give her privacy,” I said.

I knew Ori used moments of solitude to gather herself, but this time the rolling storm of anxiety seemed different. It was a gentle annoyance centred around something I couldn’t place, but had a vague sense it came from her work. “Problem?” I asked.

She paced my apartment twice in a loop before she realised she was being watched. “Not at all,” she said, vaguely waving her datapad. Even Fish showed an interest in the fidgeting, returning from her brief stint in the bathroom to wash her paws and scowl at the blur of human.

The fussing continued. Ori packed and unpacked her belongings with a firm hand, scowling at a shirt. She sighed once, then contented herself with stacking our breakfast things in a clumsy pile on the table.

My fingers twitched at the mess she was making. So much for a quiet morning together, and I drained my cooling tea in a gulp. “You need help?”

“Of course not.” Ori fidgeted again, like there was a constant itch between her shoulder blades. The scowl had returned, this time aimed at the shapeless dress she wore, disgusted she was in it.

“If you were the cat you’d be rolling by now.”

“It’s uncomfy,” she replied, annoyed I had noticed. “That’s all. How can something this shapeless feel awful?”

I was baffled by the problem, especially since there was an easy fix. “Take it off then.”

The words had a different context to what I meant. She glared at me, but it wasn’t my fault something got lost in translation. “No, some of us have work to do.”

“So do I, I’m on call.”

“Like that’s ever stopped you,” Ori replied, snorting. “You’re always on call.”

I let the statement go, frowning at the chaos of her overnight bag dumped halfway across the couch. “I assume you’ve packed something else, judging by the mess,” I said. At least Fish kept her shit in one box.

“Yes, but I can’t wear it _._ This stays on as it has to.” The statement of _has to_  was curious, but I waited for her to tell me why unprompted. "The dress makes me feel like a frumpy matron, that’s all."  
  
“Not enough bosom to be a matron, surely,” I said, amused by her choice of words.

“Not an asari matron. Human.” I was given another look, one I ignored. Ori had bosom to spare despite my comment, to the point I was smothered in certain positions if we tried. It was, according to T’Lori, ‘wasted’ on me.

I was hardly to blame that my instincts found her thighs more pleasing. Not that I could see much of anything in the shapeless dress she wore, but I wouldn’t tell her that. Ori plucked at the ankle length hem with a look of disgust, and I narrowed my eyes at her. “I don’t understand what the problem is, apart from the mess on my couch.”

“Stop fussing, it’s only clothes.” Ori ignored me to shove her belongings back into her bag with all the grace of a ration thief caught in the act.   

_-what do I always say, Kolyat?’ I rolled my eyes and picked out a different shirt. ‘Clothes maketh the man,’ I dutifully answered, with only a hint of sass. ‘Is this more suitable for your-_

I let the hypocrisy slide, considering her mood. “What you’re wearing is perfectly adequate for work, surely.”

It was not the correct reply. She swivelled on a bare heel -platforms not on yet- and returned a glare so sharp it could wound if she wanted it to. “Oh, adequate is it? Good to know that Kolyat Krios finds me perfectly _adequate_.”

“You’d be beautiful in a sanitation uniform-”

“A lazy save-”

“-but you’re clearly not comfortable,” I replied, clearing my throat. “If you’re not happy, change.”

Ori let me hold her hand for a moment before the need to stride off took her away again. “No, no. I’ve made my matronly bed, and I’ll lie in it. Look, there’s even a matching jacket.”

That she had spent her morning regime here instead of swimming up and down Zakera’s lido meant she was more worried about her day than she let on. “That you’re wearing it for a reason, I assume. Someone with an aversion to human skin?” Nothing fun was on show, not that it mattered for her job- I knew what was underneath anyway.

“The Bekenstein Charity board meeting is today,” she replied. “We’re begging for funds, as usual. They’ve shown an interest in funding a human colony, but we’re going to see if we can get more money out of them.”

We were finally at the crux of the matter. I never understood why Ori always took the long route to reach it, diverted by a constant stream of her subterfuge. “And you need to act a part. Blend in.”

She snorted in disagreement, an odd sound. “Not with _them,_ with the furniture. A bunch of socialites want to feel a sense of benevolence over the poor little charity, so I’m letting them.”

“Even in the remains of war, nothing changes.” It was something fluent in all cultures; the rich stay rich for a reason, no matter the species. “You can smear some station dust on your face if you want, maybe tear the dress at the bottom. For the full effect.”

The suggestion was passed over, even if I was teasing her. “Interesting idea, but no.”

“And I suppose since it’s Bekenstien, it’ll just be human faces around the table.” Kellam Industries prided itself in being a multispecies charity that crossed borders, but I would bet a month’s pay Ori would be paired with another human to work the meeting.

She draped her arms over my shoulder. Ori had a look that she knew something I didn’t, some secret left to tell. “Naturally.”

“Anthropocentric nonsense. Take all their money and give it to the vorcha, they deserve it more.”  

She was smiling now. “Now there’s the cynical bleakness I needed. Knew I could count on you.” I’m not sure how I cheered her up, but I’d take it.

Over the months with Ori, I got her story slowly, fed through  deflecting veils and half-truths. I resisted the urge to cross-examine the contradictions in her memories, but I knew she went to university on Bekenstein as a fact. Before the Reapers came, Ori understood what a normal college student life felt like, even if she was unhappy there.

Her bitter feelings for the colony was often at odds with her choice of career, but it was the war breaking the universe that shaped her true motivations. It did mine, if I was honest with myself.

Ori’s people had a legend about boxes and not opening them. Instead, I ran a gloved hand over the high neckline of the dress, content to enjoy the feel of her in my arms. “This is sombre.” Humans wore dark things to mourn, drell wore the ocean. “No purples, nothing glittering.”

Ori laughed again, for some reason. “I don’t wear purple all the time,” she said. We both ignored the lie. “And it’s a perfectly reasonable navy.”

 _Navy?_ I mouthed the word once, the translation picking up the slack. “Ah.”

“Just a word for the colour.”

“I know it as basalt. It used to be the colour of the temple runners on Rakhana, from one region anyway.” Even the lure of  cultural exchange wasn’t enough to pull her out of her constant fidgeting, and I gently pulled her back into my arms to stop another frantic loop around my apartment. “You’ll be fine. If this is matronly, then I’m dressed as a dome elder. Think of it like a uniform.”

“Like an actress on a stage,” she replied, tugging at my vest. “And you dress like an old man anyway. Sportswear is very forgiving on gnarly old hands, all those zips.”

My choice of off-duty clothing was a familiar sticking point. “Terribly sorry for the slight on your eyes. Should I change?”

“What for, do you have to impress the cat? Don’t bother, nothing works. Fish will hate it no matter what, unless you’re covered in tuna.”

“For you,” I said, leaning down to kiss her. “I want to impress you.”

She returned it, eyes closed. “I don’t need tuna for that.”

For a woman that pressed upon the importance of clothes and who spent an ungodly amount of credits on it, Ori still seemed reluctant to dress me- apart from one solitary gift. I had a soft blue shirt that cost too much for my liking hanging up in my wardrobe, a name day present from her.

Sometimes I wore it. Today was a day of laundry and errands, but I’d do it later if she fussed. “You’ll be fine,” I told her again. “But it is interesting seeing you out of your element.”

“Not even my mother wore this,” she said, annoyed again. “Grandmother, maybe.”

What even was matron for humans, anyway? Biology meant she had until her sixties to carry children, not that it mattered to us. I would live to see _that_ , at least.

I allowed myself a brief thought exercise of our shared life then, what sixty-year-old Oriana and Kolyat would be. That she would outlive me was always a background hum to our relationship; she might tease me about ‘ _gnarly old hands’_ but did she really want me to see herself with an old man with loose scales trailing after her?

“Gods damn,” I said out loud, then cursed myself.  I knew I was frowning. If I explained why I would spoil what little we had left of our morning together. “Sorry.”

Ori’s finger traced the crease of my brow. She could still read the emotion, even if I never explained it. “What for?”

“Nothing. Just a memory about mothers, it’ll pass.”

“What did you mother wear?” she asked, softer now. I felt a vague stab of guilt at the lie. “I bet it was nicer than navy sackcloth.”

“She loved yellows. Mami had a battered red jacket she always wore, Father was fond of her in it.”

“So wearing something to death is hereditary then.” Ori looked over my shoulder where my own jacket lay draped over the couch, suspiciously flattened by the body of Fish.

“Again with the clothes,” I said. She could buy me the occasional shirt and I’d wear it, but like Hell would I give up my jacket for her.

“You started it.”

“I did not.” Ori was always one step ahead in so much, but I could still catch up. But there would be a day where I wouldn’t, and I didn’t know what to do with myself when the time comes.  “My recollection is sharper than yours.”

My people liked to wait, our culture was shaped on it. We stared at shorelines with a patience only the dead could afford, but would she return the favour?

A fin was tugged with her fingers, and I grabbed her hand before she could do it again. It didn’t matter now, our future was only a vague concept anyway.

“There’s a difference between remembering and actually listening to what was said,” Ori replied.

If I let it, my mood would drag us down. Instead I chased the gloom away with action, and hauled her up my the globes of her ass. “Oh, well. If you say so, _orishen_.”

 _“Kolyat-”_ She wrapped her long legs around my waist in an instant, despite her protest. I walked us until were against the glass of the window, my lips at her throat vibrating as she laughed. “Is this really necessary?”

“Yes. Unless you want me to stop?”

Her lips on mine were my answer. Skycars zoomed past us, not that anyone could see in. A bright flash of orange haloed her features, light from the construction below.  

_-her blue eyes caught in the headlights, legs edged pink in the glow. She crossed them and I looked away, surprised I was staring. ‘First response,’ I said, ignoring her question. ‘C-Sec is on the move-_

When I first realised I wanted her, Ori was illuminated by the red and blue of a police siren. There was nowhere to run in the back of our shared taxi, and soft human skin reflected the emergency lights of a cruiser going over our heads. “My meeting is in two hours,” she said. “And you’re apparently still on call.”

“It doesn’t matter.” I’d hold onto the memories of us when I was older, but for now, I was content just to make them. “There’s still time,” I said.

I’d make sure there always was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cover for this is here, based on a [painting I did recently](https://autodiscothings.tumblr.com/post/183479847993/oris-back-from-a-month-long-colony-trip-and-at).
> 
> I’ll be honest, these little vignettes are indulgent and fun, and somehow write themselves. There’s no space to put them in the main stories, but they can exist as their own thing. I do them mostly for me, but please let me know if you enjoy them too.
> 
>  


	4. The C-Sec Code Of Ethics And Integrity

Every year without fail, all C-Sec officers regardless of rank are made to take a mandatory ethics exam, the results of which are even used for promotion.

While it was in place to see if we were ‘morally fit’ to keep our jobs, it was mostly used as a cheap mental health check-in for a stressed group of cops. Just in case no one would shoot up a mall or pistol-whip a suspect.

In theory, anyway, we all thought it was a pointless waste of time. It was my turn to suffer the indignation of a morality check, but at least it was on the clock.

I was even put in one of the nicer rooms we interviewed grieving witnesses in, only this time a chirpy VI was my company. 

VITA was a purple holo asari loaded with a voice programmed to be “warm and sympathetic” to all races she spoke to. Perhaps the drell language packs needed installing again, since all I got was Gods damn grating.

 “Thank you for attending your C-Sec code of ethics and integrity exam,” she said. “Welcome, officer! My name is VITA. To begin, please state your name and badge number so we can get started. When you are finished with your answer, please say ‘over’ to let me know you are done.”

Already I was pissed. The one, lone working kettle in the kitchen was broken, and I had to make do with the kava machine’s attempt at levo-tea.  “Detective Krios. ZW-3498. Over.”

The face of the holo flickered an attempt at a smile. “I’m sorry, could you repeat that? I don’t understand.”

_-I hurled the datapad through the vidscreen, right through the static. Chips of plastic ricocheted off the wall behind, a waste of-_

The childhood memory passed in an eyeblink. Instead I breathed in, wondering if the VI’s demand for repetition was  a deliberate goading if annoyance. “Detective Krios. ZW-3498. Over,” I said. 

“Thank you! I got all of that. Welcome, Detective Krios.” VITA tilted her head, a curious gesture for a VI. “I will be asking you 21 questions, which you are allowed to take as long as you like with. When you are finished, please say over. Do you understand that this is being recorded for your C-Sec personal files?”

At least she got to the point. “Yes. Over.”

“Then we will begin with the first question. When should an officer use coercive power?”

She started with a simple thing, of course. Something even a rookie could echo from the manual, unless they were a complete moron. “Only at the last resort. Over.”

The next line of questioning remained the thankful same, mechanical replies I could repeat back out of habit. I wouldn’t get comfy, because I knew what was coming; after fourteen more dull rote answers, the randomised questions of ‘integrity’ had finally begun.

“You see an elcor woman while off-duty fall down and hurt herself. Do you intervene?” she said. 

Abstract could not be solved by rote answers. “I would first see if the situation is clear and safe, then offer my assistance. Over.” 

I took a sip on my awful tea while the VI spoke. “If you could jump back through time to save a loved one’s life, would you? Despite what it might to do the timeline? To everyone else? Do you believe it is their fate to die regardless?”

_-the blood was dried in the kitchen, Mother was dead, it was mami’s blood, why-_

The tea scalded my tongue as I gulped too much of it. The question was new, even to me. I had memorised five years of previous exams for this, and presumed time travel was nowhere in sight of them.

An answer finally crystallised in my head, a flashing neon sign to read. It wasn’t as if the VI could process the metaphysical, but I could still talk around the debate.

All VITA would respond to was ‘over,’ no matter what I said.

I had the vague idea DI Hoorik was the only one who would bother watching the interview playback, so I gave my varren shit answer with a straight face. “I would first see if the situation is clear and safe, then offer my assistance. Over,” I said. 

_-fuck, marry, kill, Krios,’ Bats said. ‘It ain’t hard, answer the question.’ I glared at him, angry at the pointless thought exercise. ‘I am not killing anyone, we’re detectives.Your game is a waste of-_

The thought of Bats T’Lori forced to answer anything vaguely metaphysical in this room almost made me smile, but I wiped it off before the thought of him struggling followed through. 

“I understood that,” VITA said. I highly doubt she did. “Next question: how far would you go to achieve a dream or ideal? Does it matter who suffers? Does it matter if you suffer?”

We were back to a far more solid, C-Sec approved moral ground to stand on. “If someone suffers, no. Personally, I understand the ideal. Already my work as a detective comes with certain social sacrifices. Over.”

VITA blinked as she processed my answer, another question soon after. “How long would you wait for the one you love? A year? Fifteen years? Forever? Could you honestly be loyal to an unfulfilled love?”

_-I pulled Ori in closer, a kiss to her brow. She was leaving me, this time for two weeks; spaceports and docks always brought out the subjects we left at the last minute to talk about. ‘Ill be here, waiting. I’m not going anywhere,’ I said-_

I knew the answers would be personal, but so were my relationships outside of work. All they had to know was of an existence of a person, nothing else. They didn’t even know about the fucking cat.

I cleared my throat, unsure what to say. Would I really wait that long for Ori?  “I didn’t quite get that,” said VITA. “Would you like me to repeat the question?”

_-my reply made her smile, a small thing. ‘Waiting on the shoreline for me to return, like a-’ Ori frowned, forehead creasing in thought. ‘I forgot the word for them. A human myth of the sea, one of the-_

“No. Over.” I shifted in my seat. “I would wait. It is worth it.” She was still staring at me with the dumb eyes of a VI waiting for her modifier. “Over,” I said, trying not to sigh.

“I think I got all that. Next question: is genius equal to hard work? Does a genius deserve praise for doing well without effort? Are they above you?” Believe it or not, it was a standard question for C-Sec ethics, a debate as old as the institution itself. A detective’s work was decidedly not genius, but instead a hard graft: follow the clues; find the evidence; interview a suspect to corroborate a story; interview them again to spot the flaws.

It was also an easy question for a professional cynic to answer. 

“No,” I said. “In my experience as a detective, no one is above anyone- especially on a homicide case. And I’ve found genius only gets you so far, but hard work opens far more doors- even if it’s through brute force. Over.”

The static of the holo flickered. “We have reached the final question,” she said. 

 _Thank all the Gods_ , I almost said. Instead I put my hands on the table, neat and tidy. “Understood. Over.”

“If you could choose to remove certain feelings such as anger, confusion, sadness, would you remove them?”

There was a horror vid I saw on Ori’s insistence a month ago, all about a rogue AI who slaughtered “fleshbeasts” to free them of their emotions. It was, apparently, a classic: I found it to be propaganda dreck. 

No one watched it for the nuances of AI debate. That the asari lead was mostly naked for the entire vid certainly helped the viewing figures, I’m sure.

_-I was laughing, to Ori’s annoyance. It was meant to be a moment of cinematic genius, the finest of special effects ruined by jiggling blue bosom captured in slow motion. ‘Is that painful?’ I asked. ‘It looks painful, you usually strap yours down-_

Ori loved it, oddly. Said it was: ‘camp for all the right reasons,’ whatever that meant.

 I think she just liked the naked asari. “I like my emotions where they are,” I replied. “Over.”

A final head tilt, and VITA smiled. “Thank you for your answers,” she said. “Would you like me to see the playback?”

“No. Over.”

The smile froze, a distortion of flickering pixels. “Affirmative, Detective Krios. You have completed your yearly C-Sec code of ethics and integrity exam. Have a good day!”

Sometimes even I was a contrary bollock sheath for the sake of it. “Statement or question?” I asked. “Good days are debatable in Homicide and Violent Crime.”

“I do not have the programming to answer your question,” she said. “Would you like to access the help manual?”

“No. Over,” I replied.

 And it was.


End file.
